


The Young Mrs. Lin

by april_rainer (tom_bedlam)



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: F/F, F/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-27
Updated: 2015-02-27
Packaged: 2018-03-15 13:26:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3448805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tom_bedlam/pseuds/april_rainer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Lin said that the two of you were fireworks together.  I like fireworks.</i>
</p><p>Camellia gets married.  And then has to negotiate her husband's love life for him, because he seems to have a lot of odd ideas about the relationship between marriage and love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Young Mrs. Lin

**Author's Note:**

> I don't think there's anything I should provide a trigger warning for -- Camellia's first husband's death is mentioned in passing? However, please let me know if you see anything.

_March 12, 1928_

Mr. Lin Chung and Miss Lu Camellia were married in a large ceremony, public and formal and every kind of proper. Old Mrs. Lin attended. So did half of Melbourne society. The Honourable Miss Phryne Fisher was there, fabulous as always, and kissed both the bride and groom in congratulations. She smelled of Jicky, and her black hair brushed silkily against Camellia's cheek. It was impossible not to notice the incredibly dashing picture Miss Fisher and Lin made together, both so cultured and beautiful. Camellia put her chin up and forced herself to smile. So what if she was short and drab in comparison to Miss Fisher and her elegant shoes and perfect eyebrows? This marriage wasn't a dramatic run-away love affair -- this marriage was a life declaration, a career decision as much for Lin as for herself. Miss Fisher wasn't part of Lin's business, and it was Camellia's children who would inherit that.

* * *

_June 20, 1928_

"Is Miss Fisher's cold better?" Camellia asked idly. Miss Charlesworth had been sad to miss her old pupil at the luncheon on Monday.

"Was she ill? Do you know, I can't imagine Miss Fisher having something so undignified as a cold?" Lin observed.

Camellia tipped her head to the side, a smile in her eyes. It was hard to imagine. Miss Fisher was always so cheerful and put together. Camellia couldn't imagine her with a hair out of place, much less a runny nose or a lingering cough. "I can't really either. She missed a magazine luncheon on Monday, though, so she must have been really sick."

"Ah. Well, I hope she'll feel better soon. I'm sure Melbourne's a more exciting place with Miss Fisher up and dancing." Lin shook out his newspaper, apparently willing to let the whole matter drop, but Camellia found herself intrigued.

"You really haven't seen her all week?"

Lin shook his head, a little bemused. "No, of course not. It isn't as if she has cases in Chinatown every week."

"Well, no. I hear about the cases." The magazine had a rather possessive interest in Miss Fisher's cases. Camellia shrugged and turned back to her own work. "I just thought you might have been over to visit her."

Lin closed his paper with a snap, and Camellia looked up at him in surprise. "I have not been to 'visit' Miss Fisher, as you so delicately put it, since we were married, Camellia. How can you think that I would do such a thing to you?" Lin was not exactly angry. He didn't get angry, like Camellia's father had. It was one of the things she liked about him. But he was quietly upset, at least.

"But why would you not? You love her." It was obvious to a blind man, Camellia had thought.

"I'm married to you," Lin snapped back, offended.

"Yes," Camellia replied patiently, "But that was not about love. That was business and duty. Why should you not have love, too?"

Lin's expression shifted from offense to confusion, seeming as confused by her assumption of his extramarital activities as she was by his apparent restraint. "We were not in love when we married," he agreed slowly, "But do you really think that there is no love in what we are building? That is something to be treasured."

Camellia blinked at him, wondering if he were intentionally missing the point. "It is something I treasure greatly. But if you wish to continue keeping company with Miss Fisher, I do not think that will hurt us."

"No, it couldn't, seeing as she was the one who told me I should marry you." Camellia's dimpled showed itself. She had rather suspected that. It was very like Miss Fisher, to neatly tie off everyone's loose ends, even though, Camellia was beginning to suspect, she had known ahead of time that Lin was going to be stupidly honourable about the whole thing. She wished Miss Fisher had told her than Lin had absorbed a number of stupid ideas from being raised in Australia. They could have had this conversation months ago. "I sometimes wonder if that was her way of telling me that she was getting rather tired of me," Lin added, a touch wistfully.

"I doubt it, somehow," Camellia said dryly, letting her eyes drift over his bare chest. Miss Fisher liked things that were beautiful, and Camellia's husband was very beautiful indeed.

Lin smirked. Camellia smirked back. He might have the beautiful body, but she was the one who got to look at it. "Perhaps you are right about that. But she may have grown tired of my love. She does not save her love for only one man, and I do not think she was like any man to save all of his love for her. Unless possibly it was her dour Inspector."

"Ah." Camellia thought about it. She rarely saw Miss Fisher with the Inspector, so she couldn't consider herself in a full position to judge. "But you are not saving all your love for her. Have you not just told me that we are building our own love from respect and partnership?" It was odd, how much that thought warmed her. Her first love had been deep and passionate and immediate. She could not imagine telling Chiang to go to another woman -- she would have clawed his eyes out if he had even thought of such a thing. With Lin, it was different. Her younger self would have been appalled to call what they shared love, but it felt like the right word. It felt, and Camellia almost shied away from the thought, it felt more stable, more sure. Lin was hers, even more so than Camellia had ever suspected. But it didn't seem to her that sharing him, especially sharing him with a dear friend like Miss Fisher, could possibly damage them.

Lin relaxed into the pillows of their bed, knowing the warm electric light highlighted the contours of his muscles. "Am I boring you in bed, Camellia? Are you trying to get rid of me?"

Camellia's eyes tracked his movement, and she set her pen aside to focus on the improved view. "No, indeed!" she said, almost indignantly. "I am very, very pleased with you. Except for how you have no settled policy of health care for your employees. And you are wrong about the British political system, but that is an argument we have agreed to stop having."

Lin laughed, delighted, and stretched out a hand to her. Willingly, Camellia closed the books came to settled against him on the bed. They fit together surprisingly well, for all he was so unnaturally tall. Camellia hoped her sons wouldn't be quite as tall as their father; it wasn't sensible. But she liked being able to tuck her head beneath his chin and curl comfortably against his hip. His arm circled her, and Camellia was again struck by how easy and comfortable and reliable their sort of love was.

Lin kissed the top of her head, and murmured, "And, my dear, I am very, very pleased with you. Except for how you nag me to provide my unworthy employees with benefits they have in no way earned, and how you're wrong about the Soviet political system. I don't say I'm not still very fond of Phryne, Camellia, but I don't need her for my happiness, and I would never sacrifice what we have for that. She and I were fireworks together, fun and ephemeral and dramatic, but not something safe or lasting."

"Australia doesn't have enough fireworks," Camellia murmured, then slid her hand down his muscular stomach.

Lin gave a gasp of a laugh, and turned his attention to more pressing concerns.

* * *

_June 26, 1928_

The day after Camellia had learned the English word amethyst, her mother had received a beautiful set of amethyst earrings from a cousin who traded in Africa. A week later, the English newspaper she and her brothers were labouriously translating ran a story on the great treasures of the Indian princes. These quite naturally included amethysts. That was always how it was, struggling to learn something meant that you were destined to be inexplicably haunted by it, no matter how statistically unlikely that might seem.

Miss Fisher rang in the afternoon. Camellia was working in her garden when Lin found her. She pushed her hair out of her face with a grimy wrist and squinted up into the cool winter sun. Lin, who liked the sun as well as she did, but was fussier than a cat about getting dirt on his exquisite suits, stayed in the doorway. "Miss Fisher wants to ask you to tea tomorrow. You are free, yes?"

"Yes, of course. But the master of The Pearl wished to go over accounts with you, and he talks too much, so you are unlikely to be free until dinner time, if then."

Lin's too-bright white smile flashed. "I am apparently not required. Mr. Butler asked only if Mrs. Lin could come to tea -- I might come by for dinner, if I didn't have anything better to do than follow my wife around."

"Mr. Butler never said that."

"It was strongly implied," Lin informed her with a grin. "I suspect Miss Fisher's current case involved Communists, Chinese philosophers, women's magazines, or orchids, and she means to pick your brains."

"I shall be pleased," Camellia said. "Have you anything you'd like me to take over for her?"

"Tea might be a nice thought. She has good taste."

"Lovely. I will bring a case of the oolong from my father's most recent shipping. My afternoon will be much better than yours. Miss Fisher keeps a far better table than Li Wen, and is far lovelier," Camellia told him with a twinkle in her eye.

"Just for that, I am not going to have your bath run and waiting for you when you tire of turning dirt into beauty."

Camellia shrugged. "You're the one who will have to smell me while I wait. Now go away. The jasmine needs my attention."

* * *

_June 27, 1928_

Mr. Butler took the tea and Camellia's coat, and ushered her into the parlour. Miss Fisher sat, pretzel-like, in the window seat, an empty glass dangling in one hand as she contemplated the grey Melbourne winter. When Mr. Butler announced, "Mrs. Lin" and withdrew, Miss Fisher seemed to come back to the pretty parlour with a start, and turned to Camellia, uncurling gracefully and discarding her glass on a side table. She rose and came to greet her guest, an impish smile chasing away the touch of pensive melancholia lingering in her eyes.

Camellia smiled back warmly, taking both of Miss Fisher's cold hands in hers and turning her cheek to accept the scented kiss. Miss Fisher was wearing Jicky. Camellia preferred only flower-scented perfumes for herself, but Jicky suited Miss Fisher, seductive and fashionable.

"Camellia! How are you?"

"I am very well, thank you. And you? Is your cold better?" Camellia asked, as they settled into the comfortable chairs by the heater. Mr. Butler wheeled in the tea chart discretely and left them alone.

"Oh, mostly." Miss Fisher shrugged fluidly. "I hate being sick, so I try not to think about it. Will you pour?"

Mr. Butler had brought Chinese green tea, and an array of delicacies that would not be out of place in a Hong Kong cafe. Camellia rather liked Australian food, but she smiled at the compliment anyway, and poured tea.

Tea was all the things English ritual tea was meant to be: soothing and comfortable and formulaic. They talked about the magazine, and the weather, and Amelia Earhart. Camellia poured herself a second cup of tea and asked after Miss Fisher about her case.

Miss Fisher smiled. The tea grew cold as they talked over Mrs. Harlan's messy, shocking divorce, and her son's interest in the plight of the working man and subsequent disappearence. Lin was right -- Miss Fisher wanted to know what Camellia knew about the Chinese communists in Australia. Camellia regretted that she had little information to contribute. Out of deference to the Lin family's strong capitalist beliefs and her own position as part holder of Lin's honour, she had had nothing to do with organized Communism since coming to Melbourne. Miss Fisher seemed just as interested in asking about her experiences in Shanghai, however, and liked to have someone to talk over details and theories with. Dot, Miss Fisher explained, was spending the afternoon helping Mrs. Harlan-that-was settle into her little furnished apartment.

Lin did not come for dinner. They lingered over dessert. Miss Fisher had a whiskey and soda, and Camellia had a small glass of port. Conversation drifted away from misery and disappearences, and found its way, through vineyards and gardening, back to the personal. "Lin tells me that he has not been to see you in some time," Camellia observed, watching the moon rise over Miss Fisher's back garden. It was a sad, dry space. In her mind, she was furnishing was a stand of bamboo to protect against the hot Australian wind, and considering what flowers would be best to in the shady bower thus established.

"No," Miss Fisher said with a shrug. "His duty is to you now."

Camellia looked over at Miss Fisher, and offered her a small smile. "Perhaps it is. But I think his pleasure should be wider ranging."

Miss Fisher's eyebrows went up in surprise, and she laughed. "Should it indeed? Does he exhaust you?"

"He is a most ardent lover," Camellia said calmly. She could feel a blush staining her cheeks, probably invisible in the dim light, but she was not entirely embarrassed. Miss Fisher's eyes laughed her. Miss Fisher knew exactly how ardently Camellia's husband made love, and somehow that made everything easier. "I do not mind. But he misses you."

Miss Fisher's eyes dropped, then she shrugged as if tossing off a bad thought and smiled again. "We had good times together. But marriage, you know. He wanted the stability of that as much as the money and connections, I think."

"Yes," Camellia agreed, thinking of his defense of their respectful admiration a week previous. "We are a marriage now, the two of us. I think it would be very hard to change that. I think he would be happy to love you, also, if you still desired him. He doubts that you do," she added.

Miss Fisher grinned at her, although there was something worried in her eyes. "Please tell me you don't doubt that."

Camellia felt herself grin back. She could not imagine for herself, having Lin and then having to give him up. "I found it hard to believe, yes."

"And what about your happiness? Is his happiness all that counts?" Miss Fisher asked, and Camellia thought that this was the center of her worry.

"It is not a sacrifice for me," Camellia said. "To be very blunt, I had expected that you were still lovers already. It doesn't please me in the least to find that my husband is denying himself pleasure on my account. I like you quite well, also. If it's you, I don't mind."

Miss Fisher quirked an eyebrow. "If it's me?"

Camellia looked at Miss Fisher openly, eyes tracing the smooth circle of her head outlined in silky black hair, the juts of her beautiful cheekbones, the passionate red of her thin, laughing mouth, and tried to figure out how to articulate the essential rightness of Miss Fisher and Lin together. They were both so beautiful, so sophisticated, so charming and intelligent, and yet also very human. "Because you deserve him," Camellia said finally. "Because you are beautiful, because you complement each other."

Miss Fisher looked rather surprised. Before could reply, Camellia thought of what it was that she was trying to say. "Lin said that the two of you were fireworks together. I like fireworks."

That made Miss Fisher laugh, open and delighted, in the way only Miss Fisher had. Camellia smiled quietly. Miss Fisher found amusement and delight in so many things, that perhaps making her laugh shouldn't seem like such an achievement, but it pleased Camellia none the less.

"Fireworks? What does he say you are with him, then?"

Camellia shrugged. "I distracted him before he got that far."

Miss Fisher's eyes warmed as she guessed what form the distraction had taken.

Mr. Butler cleared his throat at the hall door. "Mrs. Lin's car, Miss, Madame."

Miss Fisher and Camellia both glanced instinctively at the clock in surprise, and moved quickly -- it was already well past when Lin would have expected Camellia home.

Miss Fisher gave Camellia another scented kiss at the door.

"Good night, Miss Fisher," Camellia murmured, returning the kiss. "I shall mention to Lin that you hope to see him some time."

Miss Fisher laughed lightly. "If you want to. We should all see more of each other."

* * *

_July 14, 1928_  
 _Afternoon_

Camellia made Lin take her Miss Fisher the designs for her garden.

Camellia had told him to go and see Miss Fisher, but Lin, in the most silently mulish way Camellia had ever seen, was refusing. She pressed her lips together, and decided that no one could be absolutely perfect. Apparently one of Lin's major faults was a complete and frustrating inability to talk things thorough in a sensible manner. In the end, Camellia vented her frustration by re-appropriating Lin's silver plate from his mother, and walking out after being shouted at by her mother-in-law for nearly an hour. Mrs. Lin seemed in a better mood afterwards, so Camellia decided that the old woman needed the entertainment, and wondered if perhaps she should pick fights with her more regularly.

On her way to an afternoon of traditional Chinese music (presented to an audience for charity), Camellia paused by Lin's desk and asked, "Are you going out this afternoon?"

"I'll probably run down to the harbour. Did you have an errand you need me to run?"

"There's a letter in my writing desk. If you don't mind delivering it in person, I'd appreciate it. It's a gift, so it should really be delivered by hand."

Lin smiled at her. "Of course."

Camellia smiled back, tracing his jaw lightly with her finger. All mine, she thought, pardonably smugly, and leaned into kiss him. I can share if I want. "Thank you very much."

 

_Evening_

Lin was out when Camellia got home, and the letter was gone. Camellia smiled as she took off her gloves and hat, and tossed them on her tidy desk. She was about to order a bath and dinner for one, when Mary slipped into the office and bowed slightly. "What is it?" Camellia asked.

"There was a telephone call, Madame. Miss Fisher asks that you join her for dinner."

"Really?" Camellia looked at Lin's desk, indisputably unoccupied. What between heaven and earth could Miss Fisher and Lin want her for? She let her shoulders lift slightly. Perhaps it was a case. "Very well. Please call the car. The master and I will not be back until quite late. Don't wait up."

Mary bowed herself out, and Camellia retrieved her hat and gloves thoughtfully.

Mr. Butler let Camellia into the parlour without announcing her. Miss Fisher and Lin were playing cards. Miss Fisher's feet were bare -- the nails where lacquered to match her moon-manicured fingers. The house pajamas she wore probably had more fabric in them than Camellia's jacket, but they didn't hide the elegant lines of Miss Fisher's folded legs at all. Her robe fell loosely from her shoulders, and Camellia's eyes caught briefly on the curve of her spine, bare from the soft hairs at the top of her neck nearly to her waist. Lin was still dressed in afternoon wear, although he'd lost his jacket, and his cravat hung loose around his neck like a silk scarf.

They turned to look at Camellia as Mr. Butler closed the door behind her. Miss Fisher's eyes were merry and Lin's shoulders where loose -- they were both of them happy. Camellia smiled, and they smiled back at her. Lin, ever the gentleman, rose gracefully, and offered Camellia the third chair at the table.

She took his hand and let him seat her, glancing quickly at both their faces as Lin settled back into his chair across from Miss Fisher. Camellia was satisfied, naturally, to see Lin and Miss Fisher pleased, but actually seeing them together, comfortable in each other's presence, gave her a sharp ache -- not exactly jealousy, closer to a sort of wistful desire.

"How was your concert?" Lin asked, as if she had just arrived in their own house, rather than as a guest in his mistress' home. That term seemed erroneous for Miss Fisher; it implied a subservient position that she in no way occupied. Camellia wonder if there were English words for Miss Fisher, or if she were indescribable in any language.

"Lovely. The Society raised almost twice the sum they were expecting. You should have gone instead of me, though. I'm not musical."

"But I'm not charitable," Lin said with a shrug. "You should take Miss Fisher; she likes society."

"But I'm not charitable, either," Miss Fisher said.

Camellia smiled and shook her head at that blatant lie. She wouldn't be sitting where she was without Miss Fisher's boundless charity and consideration.

"I'm terribly selfish," Miss Fisher insisted, her eyes sparkling. "I like getting what I want. Drink?"

Camellia nodded faintly. When she accept the glass, Miss Fisher's elegant fingers brushed over her hand -- nearly a caress. Camellia glanced over at Lin to see him elegantly draped in his chair watching them both with interested eyes.

"Is this a seduction?" Camellia asked him.

He raised a hand loosely to Miss Fisher, a grin lurking in the back of his eyes. Lin did like being chased. "If it is, I expect I'm as much the target as you are."

Camellia frowned at both of them. "I thought we sorted that out."

"You sorted it out to your satisfaction," Miss Fisher said with faint, amused emphasis. "Lin decided he didn't like being manipulated by the women in his life -- I can't imagine why he's decided to start objecting now; before he met us, his grandmother made all his personal decisions -- and I decided I didn't see why we shouldn't all get everything we wanted, rather than just some of it."

Camellia's wide eyes flicked to Miss Fisher's pointed face, trying to read her expression. Miss Fisher's smile softened a little. "You said you liked the idea of me with Lin. Did it never occur to you that I might like the idea of you with him as well?"

Camellia's gaze jumped to Lin in perplexed startlement. He shrugged, and offered her his most dazzling smile. "Who am I to reject beautiful and brilliant women?" Even though she knew it to be sheer flattery, the plural warmed Camellia down to her toes. More seriously, Lin continued, "If you don't want to be here, you need not. I can take you home -- or I can follow you home tomorrow morning, if you are insistent that I am unbearable without the occasional infidelity. But the choice is yours. Phryne and I are greedy in our desires; you need be only if you want to."

"You are invariably generous, Camellia," Miss Fisher said. "Especially to Lin. And especially to me." She nodded at the table between them, and Camellia saw the sketches she'd made for Miss Fisher's garden. "What is it that you want for yourself?"

Camellia blinked at both of them, her throat closed to all hope of words. She focused her eyes on her hands, smoothly folded in her lap, and wondered at there stillness. She had said she liked fireworks, had she not? "I had never thought --" The words escaped before she had a change to form them completely, or the thought behind them. She swallowed, thinking of Miss Fisher's perfume, of Lin's clever fingers. She thought of them standing together, plotting, when she'd first arrived in Australia and was pretending she spoke no English. She had never seen an English woman with a Chinese man before, and had pitied the Chinese wives of overbearing Englishmen. But Lin did not look at Miss Fisher as a woman -- or at least, not just as a woman. And Miss Fisher didn't look at Lin as Chinese -- merely as beautiful and clever and charming. What did they see when they looked at her, she wondered. Who had invited her here tonight? Looking up, she saw Lin watching her, caution and a touch of worry in his eyes. Him, then. So careful, surprisingly, of the feelings of a bride he had not really wanted. Miss Fisher watched them both, but Camellia thought her eyes had more possessive warmth when they rested on Lin.

"Do you want me to stay?" Camellia asked her. "Do you want me to stay for myself, or because Lin won't visit you without me?"

"I want you to stay," Miss Fisher said, calmly. She seemed to understand Camellia's hesitation, because she added, "We admire the same qualities in your husband, unless I miss my guess, and I thought it would be fun." She shrugged, graceful and easy, happy to take whatever pleasure was offered, willing to let it go just as easily. "I think he'd like it, don't you?" Miss Fisher's pointed eyes flicked sideways to Lin, and Camellia, following them, thought she might be right. "And I thought you'd enjoy it, too," Miss Fisher added, with tilted smile.

Camellia looked back at her hands, feeling a blush stain her cheeks. Miss Fisher was quicker at recognizing Camellia's attraction than Camellia had been herself. It had never occured to her that she might be welcome in Miss Fisher's boudoir, but now that it had been proposed she couldn't help imagining, just a little. Without consciously choosing to, Camellia looked back at Miss Fisher -- Miss Fisher, whose expression was patient, but lit with the banked heat of expectation. Miss Fisher correctly read the decision in Camellia's blush. It was uncomfortable to be understood, but it also made it easy to be brave. Camellia looked across at Lin. He still looked cautious, a little unsure, and Camellia smiled at him. As if such a delicately offered proposal could shake any of the relationships in this room.

The table they sat at was small, barely big enough for the forgotten cribbage game spilled across it. Camellia reached a hand out, barely stretching, and pulled Lin into a light kiss. Half regretful, half impatient, she let him go, and looked Miss Fisher in the face, and replied, "Yes, I think I would enjoy it."

**Author's Note:**

> When I ran out of TV show, I started reading the books. While this primarily draws from TV characterization (I like those better), it is influenced by some of the character details from the books. Lin Chung was one of my favourite characters, and one of the few ways the books are better than the tv show is that there is WAY MORE Lin Chung.
> 
> I also really wanted Camellia to be a reoccurring character. She's amazingly badass, you know?
> 
> I hang out on [tumblr](http://april-rainer-writes.tumblr.com). Come tell me all your feels about Lin Chung and/or Camellia and/or Miss Fisher! Actually, just come and talk if you want; I like to be talked to. ;-)


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